Under A Pale Moon
by KaztheVeela
Summary: A child is spawned that will spell out the end of Voldemort...
1. Default Chapter Title

Harry Potter, alone and undoubtedly confused, closed his incantations book with a snap and turned on his side. His mind was astray; Herminone's pretty face flashed in front of his closed eyelids.  
  
"Harry, come with me."  
  
Now his dreams were even sounding real. He tried to block out the soft, persistent voice, but it would not leave.  
  
"Harry, wake up, dammit."  
  
It was real. Harry sat up with a jolt and gave Hermione Granger a swift, puzzled once-over before speaking. "What are you doing in here? And so late, at that?"  
  
The glowing red numbers on his clock proclaimed the time to be a quarter to three in the morning. Ron Weasley rolled over in his sleep, moaning slightly. Harry felt a pang of jealousy as he realized it was Herminone's name muttered in the dark. His eyes darted from Ron to her. To his surprise, a flush of delight and embarrassment colored her cheeks.  
  
"I wanted to show you something?"  
  
"Is it about Quidditch?" Harry asked, referring to the second big love of his life. The first was obvoius, and standing before him. "The match Tuesday?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "It's far more important than that."  
  
"All right," Harry said, smouldering a curse welling up in his troat. He realized that she hadn't asked him why he was reading incantations; whatever she had to show him must've been urgent.  
  
Ten minutes later, hastily covered by the Invisiblity Cloak, Hermione and Harry stepped out into the crisp, November air. Harry noticed with surprise that she had her hand curled around his. His heart lurched and threatened to stop; he forced it back to life with the movement of his legs.  
  
"How much further?" he asked at long last.  
  
"Shush," Herminone scolded him, though they were alone in the chilly night. If he had been less observant, he wouldn't have noticed glee at that fact. "Not much more." She paused, and Harry crashed into her, startled at her sudden stop. "Here."  
  
He eyed the shrubbery before them skeptically. "What is so great about a bush?"  
  
"I have to show you," Hermione insisted. She reached out and patted Harry's pockets; something hard bulged in one of them. Hermione grabbed at this, his wand, and directed it toward the leafy wall before them. "Seperatos!"  
  
The bushes moved, and Hermione let the cloak fall from her slender shoulders before disappearing into the dark cavern. Harry picked up the cloak, scowling and dusting it off, then followed.  
  
His impatience was now impossible to conceal. "What?"  
  
"I made this," Hermione said, awe in her voice. "I made it for you. Us."  
  
"Us?" Harry turned in a full cicle, taking in the small room appreciatively. It had no lamps. Instead, little fairies flittled about the ceiling, casting mysterious shadows. A large bed filled the center of the room, and it was pressed against the back wall. "Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?" Her voice was unusually soft.  
  
"Is this innuendo?"  
  
Her laugh chimed at his remark. "I thought we could talk."  
  
"Talking is good," Harry said, swallowing hard. A lump had seemed to form in his troat...and other places.  
  
Hermione sat on the bed casually, it sinking politely at her slight weight. "I have managed to aquire a bit of a--" she broke off.  
  
"A what?" Harry asked cautiously, sitting on the bed beside her.  
  
"Dammit, Harry, haven't you noticed?"  
  
"Noticed what?" Noticed how beautiful she looked in the light of the faeries? Noticed his growing attraction for her? Noticed the sensual atmosphere of this grotto?  
  
"Harry, I think I have fallen in love with you!" At that, Hermione burst into tears.  
  
Harry put an arm around her, drawing her to him in a hug, his mind racing. Hermione, his best friend, in love with him. How long had he known her, lamenting because he could never have her, and now she decided to tell him? Instead of anger, he felt utterly calm, serene. Six years. Six long years.  
  
"It's okay," Harry consoled. He drew her tear-streaked face up and fixed his eyes on hers. "It's okay, Hermione, I think I have fallen in love with you, too."  
  
Hermione's tears slowly dried as Harry's lips closed over hers. He pressed her back against the plush material of the pillows, his tongue dancing with hers, his hand moving up her torso to her breasts, where it rested.  
  
Then she pushed him away. A look Harry had never seen on her decorated her face. For a moment, he was afraid, but in the next, Hermione was on top of him, straddling his hips and forcing her lips against his. She pulled off her flimsy nightdress, and Harry realized she was naked under it.  
  
"Make love to me, Harry," she commanded.  
  
Her fingers moved deftly over his chest, unbuttoning the buttons of his pajamas and pulling it over his head. A ghost of a smile played at her lips as she felt Harry's erection through his pants.  
  
"Aren't we--" he gasped, his voice husky with desire, "aren't we moving just a bit too fast?"  
  
"Fast?" Hermione practically spat, working his pants down his legs, where they landed artlessly on the floor. "Fast? I've been waiting my whole life for this." A grin lit up her face. "I guess I'm not the only one who has aquired the habit of sleeping without any underwear on."  
  
"Dobby stole it all," he muttered, embarrassed. But Hermione didn't seem to mind.  
  
"God, Harry, if I had but known when I first met you, I would've jumped you sooner!" she chuckled lightly, then set forth to seducing him.  
  
When the first rays of dawn hit the horizon two and a half hours later, Harry did realize and admit, for the first time, he truly cared for Hermione, sleeping innocently curled up in the crook of his arm. She had satisfied him, deflowered him (he had probably done the same for her, though she didn't carry herself like a virgin in the fleeting hours of night), and made him fall madly in love with him. What more could he want?  
  
Suddenly, he bolted up in bed. Hermione fell from his touch, letting out a small yelp. No wonder a rare calm had filled him. His ultimate stress was gone. And he knew it had something to do with the fertlized seed Hermione now carried inside of her. The words fell from his lips, a wonder to himself.  
  
"Voldemort...has been destoryed."  



	2. Default Chapter Title

(Personal note: This is sort of a sequel, and kind of explains my other story. Please, like it! I need the praise! ^+^)  
  
  
Hermione stared at Harry. "What do you mean, He-Who-Mustn't-Be-Named is destroyed? All we did was have sex. I don't really think that qualifies as killing hi--"  
  
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "look at you. Look at me."  
  
She nodded. "I am looking. What am I supposed to be seeing?"  
  
Harry stood, the mystical L-shaped sheet falling onto her. She clutched it to her chest and waited for him to speak, move, do something. "With our passionate endeavors within these silk sheets, we have..."   
  
He broke off, sensing Hermione's confusion.  
  
"Okay, you know how Volde--he and I share a mental link through this scar?"  
  
She nodded, her eyes tracing the mark on his forehead.  
  
"Well," Harry said, chuckling cynically, "when I woke, I didn't feel that usual, horrible sense of foreboding like I usually do. Then I thought, 'Gee, Hermione really blew my mind last night.' THEN, I thought, 'Hey, since Voldemort and I are mentally attached, she must've blew his mind, too.' And being such a powerful mind, Voldemort's head must've exploded, imploded, or altogether shut down."  
  
"Harry," Hermione began carefully, "what are you implying?"  
  
"That the stupid bastard wanted your body, and once he got it, he flipped out!" Harry collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. His body shook with laughter, and Hermione crept around him to put an arm on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry? You're scaring me."  
  
"Sorry," he apologized, wiping a tear from his eyes. He glanced at his watch. "Crud."  
  
Hermione bent over the bed, Harry watching appreciatively, and withdrew a suitcase from underneath. "I thought ahead."  
  
She pulled out two sets of clothing, unfolding them and placing them on the bed. Harry's eyes narrowed as he recognized some of his missing attire. Hermione grinned. "I had Ron bring them to me. Told him you spilled potion on your other clothes. I guess he didn't realize you were wearing a cloak over them, and he was eager to oblige. Here. Get dressed."  
  
Harry pulled on the clean underwear, denims, and shirt as Hermione dressed modestly behind a wall of shimmering faeries. Donning the Invisibility Cloak, they linked hands and stepped out into the dewey morning. Students where bustling about on the lawn, so the duet had to take special care not to crash into any of them, for it would launch them into embarrassing explanations if the cloak fell off.  
  
Back at the picture of the fat lady, Hermione stepped out from under the cloak. "I love you, Harry," she said softly, planting a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.  
  
He watched her walk away, a stupid smile crossing his face. He turned, gave the fat lady the password, then disappeared into the dormitory. Ron was awake, and a look of surprise registered on his face as he saw Harry. "Where were you?"  
  
Harry didn't reply; he merely grinned.  
  
*****  
  
Voldemort groaned, intense pain shooting through him. Harry would have to pay for this, yes, and he would pay well. Nobody inflicted pain on Voldemort in such a manner. Croaking out an incomprehensivable message to Wormtail, he shifted on the sleeping mat.  
  
Wormtail appeared by his side, moving the icepacket from his Lord's head to his crotch. "It's okay, Master, it's okay, I'll get Harry, just you relax, the pain will go away. Have you tried a hex to get rid of it?"  
  
Voldemort moaned something, and rolled onto his side, the pack falling away. Fury was evident on his face.  
  
"Oh!" Wormtail apologized. "I'm sorry, Master, I didn't realize that kind couldn't be cured with a spell."  
  
Voldemort grappled for the icepack, coughed, then found his voice. "The pain will subside by noon, but..." he trailed off, wincing. "...until then, capture Harry Potter and bring him to me." Voldemort's red eyes became slits. "I think he owes me an apology." 


	3. Default Chapter Title

Professor Snape glowered down his nose at Harry, then slowly grinned. "I know how much you love to skip your classes, so I have a treat for you." He nodded at the door, where a short, young man stood. "You have a visitor."  
  
Harry blinked, pulled suddenly out of a mental vortex. He glanced up, followed Snape's gaze, and spotted the man in the doorway. "Sorry?"  
  
"I said, visitor. It's a friend of mine." His grin spread across his face, his yellow teeth glinting in the mid-afternoon light. "Go. You have my permission. And twenty points off Gryffindor for insubordination."  
  
"Insubordiation!" Ron Weasley cried out, irriated, before he could stop himself.   
  
Snape snapped his head around and fixed his withering glare on Ron. "Do you want to make it fifty?"  
  
Ron shook his head, and flashed Harry a nervous smile before burying his face back in his book. Hermione, also, appeared worried.  
  
The man curtly introduced himself as Gradien as he led him down the corridor to a door. He stopped, then turned to Harry. "You do realize why I was sent for you, don't you?"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"There has been a robbery. Snape said you were to be interrogated first." The door opened, and Gradien stepped through it. Harry followed. "Do you know what was taken?"  
  
Again, Harry shook his head.  
  
"Pride." Gradien seemed to grow colder as he spoke. "Do you know what I am?"  
  
Harry could answer this one. "A friend of Professor Snape."  
  
Gradien laughed, low and ruthless. "Whatever, my boy. I'm merely using Snape because he's convenient. I am one of Voldemort's henchmen."  
  
"What?" Harry shook his head. "Voldemort is dead!"  
  
"You're too smug, little boy."  
  
Harry looked at the long, white fingers grasping his arm and back at Gradien. "Let me go."  
  
"Voldemort has been wanting to see you," Gradien said, apparantly not hearing what Harry had just said.  
  
"Let me go." Harry reached for his wand and realized, with horror, that it was missing. "You ass! Where's my wand?"  
  
"Voldemort has it," Gradien replied. "And it is time for you to bid your apologies to him."  
  
"For what?"  
  
The man did not seem amused as he adjusted his cloak around his lower torso. "I think you know. And there is no humor whatsoever in doing what you did to our master."  
  
"It's not OUR master," Harry shot at Gradien. He brought his hands around his mouth and called, with all his fervor, "HELP!"  
  
Gradien took out his wand and, with a bored flick of his wrist, knocked Harry unconscious.  
  
***********  
  
Voldemort sat up, with ease now, and rubbed his hands together like a fly on prey. "Very good work, Wormtail. I'm glad that Polyjuice worked so effectively. You fooled Snape, too, didn't you?"  
  
Wormtail beamed. "Yes, I couldn't risk Dumbledore interrogating him with that truth stuff."  
  
Voldemort didn't bother correcting Wormtail's bad usage of the potion's name. "Yes, you deserve commissioning. Now, where is he?"  
  
"He's in the back." Wormtail scurried from the room, then reappeared a moment later, a body in tow.  
  
"You didn't kill him, did you?" Voldemort asked, prodding the limp Harry with his wand.  
  
"No, Master."  
  
Voldemort grinned. "Very, very good."  
  
As Wormtail positioned Harry's wand in his hand, Voldemort rose. He stood to a towering six-and-a-half feet. Wormtail turned to him, shrinking away, and asked if there was anything else he could do. Voldemort dismissed him, then scuffled across the small room to the unconscious boy.   
  
"Wake, Harry, and avenge your father."  
  
Harry woke instantly, his eyes darting about the room in terror. A scream welled up in his throat.  
  
"I wouldn't."  
  
He didn't.  
  
"I think there is something I need to tell you, Harry," Voldemort began. "It goes something like this: kill Hermione."  
  
"Never," Harry rasped, licking his dry, chapped lips. "I love her."  
  
"Well, Harry, my boy--"  
  
"I'm not your boy."  
  
"She carries a child, and the child will grow up to be a hero, twice as strong as you. Frankly, that scares me. So, I want you to kill her."  
  
"You can't control me."  
  
"I know," Voldemort sighed deeply. "That's why I'm asking you kindly."  
  
"And I'm telling you kindly, no." Harry didn't sound too kind.  
  
"As you wish," Voldemort looked almost regretful. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."  
  
A beam of light flashed from his wand. Harry cried out and rolled away, barely dodging it. Unfortunately, his wand clattered and rolled, too, in his haste. Voldemort summoned it, then snapped it using merely his mind.  
  
Harry stared in shock. "You broke my wand. How dare you!"  
  
Voldemort shrugged. "Oops."  
  
Suddenly the room filled with a bright light, then a hazy fog filled the room. Harry hunched over, wracked with coughs. Even Voldemort seemed faltered by this. A large, looming shape filled the room, scooped up Harry, then, with a series of bustling thumps, dragged him out of the dank cave.  
  
With the cool, fragrant air beating down on him, Harry cleared his lungs and turned to his hero, surprise evident on his face. "You...you saved me. How?"  
  
Short, stumpy, and beaming, with socks dangling from his ears, Dobby dusted his hands off. "All is in a day's work for Dobby."  
  
  
***MORE COMING SOON!***  



	4. Default Chapter Title

Voldemort was affonted. "A whining brat? Weak? Who leaked to Rita Skeeter?"  
  
Wormtail shrugged. "I've been cooped up for the past two weeks. I haven't let anyone in or went out."  
  
The dark Lord's eye's flashed. "I'll show them who's weak and whining."  
  
"Uh, don't do anything that could get you hurt," suggested Wormtail meekly.  
  
"Wormtail."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
**********  
  
From a distance, Dobby watched. His ears would occasionally twitch, when a crucial piece of information filtered over to him, but other than that, his body remained frigid. He took mental notes on everything He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named said, and after only four hours of listening, he had concocted a plan. An excellent plan, in fact, that would indeed guarantee his destruction.  
  
*********  
  
Rita Skeeter's mutilated body was found the next day, floating face-down in the lake. Cause of death was undetermined, but all evidence pointed to Voldemort.   
  
Voldemort's opinion of this? "Uh, of course!"  
  
********  
  
Voldemort himself snuck into Harry's room. There was no more beating around the bush on this. If it made him a pansy, killing Harry as he slept, so let it be. And no more risking his wand. It had failed him before; it won't fail him again. He raised the long, glinting dagger high in the air, then plunged it down, deep, into the form in the bed. No screams followed. A satisfied Voldemort slithered out of the room, gleeful, for that was exactly how Voldemort liked it.  
  
*******  
  
A satisfied Harry was in Hermione's room, doing it exactly the way he liked it, when the sound of nails clicking over wood drew his attention. Hermione heard it, too, and sat up.  
  
"Harry? Did you hear something?"  
  
Harry's utopia was shattered. "Yes. Shhh..."  
  
The sound grew louder as the subject advanced, then a large, demonic shadow was cast on the wall.  
  
In exasperation, both Harry and Hermione cried out, "Dobby!"  
  
Dobby grinned at them uncertainly. "Dobby is happy to see Harry and Hermione. Harry said he allow Dobby to visit his room whenever, but Harry wasn't there, but a figure with a knife was, scared Dobby. But Dobby is more baffled by this position Hermione and Harry create. What is you doing?"  
  
Both Harry and Hermione flushed scarlet. Hermione was the first to react, as she pulled up the blanket. "Why are you here, Dobby?"  
  
When Dobby realized that he wouldn't find out what act Harry and Hermione were doing, he set forth to business. "Harry had visitor in room, it was he."  
  
Harry allowed this to sink in. To Hermione, he hissed, "Thanks."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"If I hadn't snuck into your bedroom, I'd be dead right now."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, with a touch of humor and a pat on his leg. "You're welcome."  
  
Dobby shot them a sharp look. "Dobby is talking here!"  
  
"Sorry," they apologized in unison.  
  
Dobby held up his weapon of choice. "I have weapon here."  
  
Harry squinted in the dark at the snakelike object Dobby held in his hand. "What is it?"  
  
"A sock," Dobby said instantly, with conviction.  
  
Harry listened to Dobby's explanation, how he had listened in on Voldemort's conversations, and how he reached his conclusion that a sock could kill the bastard.  
  
"So," Harry said, imitating Dobby's gesture and swinging something invisible in the air to represent the sock, "I just take it, swing it in the air, crack it against Vol--Mr. Nameless's--head, and poof! He's dead?"  
  
Dobby looked irriated. "Sock alone not kill. Harry need this."  
  
He held up an emerald bottle, filled half way with some powder.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Dobby cut her off, a tremor in his voice. "Kadarva concentrate."  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
Again, Hermione was eager to explain, but Dobby beat her to it. "Harry put powder in sock."  
  
Harry nodded, understanding. Dobby's ideas, often as twisted as they were, made sense. "But how do I get to him without him knowing? I mean, beating him upside his head with a sock is pretty obvious."  
  
Dobby's eyes widenend. "He think Harry dead; Harry has edge."  
  
And, Harry knew, by this time tomorrow Voldemort would've figured out he had once again screwed up. Sighing, he rose, and dressed, then took the powder and sock from Dobby's shaking fingers. As he crept out into the darkness, he heard Dobby distinctly ask, in inquiry about sex, "Hermione? What act you and Harry do that I walk in on?"  
  
  
  
******* 


	5. Default Chapter Title

As Hermione flustered through the birds and the bees with Dobby, Harry clutched the rainbow sock like a life preserver. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and occasionally he'd flicker a worried glance at the poison in the bottle. What if it exploded and killed him instead? Harry froze; Dobby hadn't even thought of that. When the powder hit Voldemort, some of it would fly into his face. Then what would he do? He'd be dead. And if that was not the worst, what if it spead and killed all of Hogwarts? He had no idea how condensed it was, but it was nothing to fool with.  
  
So, a mere few feet from Voldemort's cave (having followed the directions on a map that Dobby had drawn on a sheet of parchment), he stopped. And thought.  
  
Nothing came to mind.  
  
A low rumble of thunder in the distance drew his attention. Of course! Harry hastily dropped the bottle, unopened, into the sock, and turned to the cave. A small pile of rocks had been placed there nonchalantly, and Harry knew that a small charm could send them tumbling down. That would be ideal. He crept over to the cave, and with all his might, threw the powder-clad sock into it. A second later, he heard the satisfying shatter of class. A swift wave of his wand sent the rocks tumbling down, closing off the hole. It would take Voldemort, even with his acute mind, a minute or two to comprehend and remove the rocks. He would be dead by then.  
  
Smugly, Harry hastened back to his dorm.  
  
********  
  
Voldemort did not die; Wormtail did, but he didn't. He fled to another planet, nursing himself. It would be at least another ten years before he fully recooperated, and then he would have an even larger challenge: a fully grown Harry, as a strapping and powerful man, and his son, old enough to destroy him.   
  
Would Voldemort risk this, to go back to Earth and challenge Harry? He did not know. And, frankly, it'll be another ten years before anyone finds out.  
  
FIN  
  
  
[This is the end of my series. I know, I know. It SUCKS. I guess I lost interest in it too fast. But never fear; there is more to come in the same genre, just not in this series. I'm sorry! Thank you to all who reviewed this and spurred my creativity and helped me along; without your ego-boosting praise. I would've quit after the first (and only good) one. And to the idiot who flamed me for writing an alleged "porno", phoo on you. You're the one who went around looking for R-rated stuff to slam. Honestly! Smiles and hugs to all, even the cretin who slammed this, cuz at least he read it and reviewed it, right? Wait for my next novella! And, of course, I have no right to J.K. Rowling's stuff, so this isn't mine, technically. Of coure, in a way they are, but it's a long story and I've already taken too much space up, anyway. Thanx!]  



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